


...And The Circus Leaves Town

by DownInTheGutter



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Sam, Crazy Dean, Dark Dean Winchester, Dubious Consent, M/M, Obsession, Pining Dean, Sexual Abuse, Stalking, Top Dean, Trauma, Unrequited Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-09
Updated: 2015-03-11
Packaged: 2018-03-17 01:03:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3509354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DownInTheGutter/pseuds/DownInTheGutter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Title from a great album by Kyuss.</p>
<p>Also, it's mostly Dean obsessing over Sam and what he's up to. Just a warning there's not much actual sex, I guess.</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title from a great album by Kyuss.
> 
> Also, it's mostly Dean obsessing over Sam and what he's up to. Just a warning there's not much actual sex, I guess.

The first guy comes into the picture when Sam’s fifteen.

When Dean meets him, he thinks it’s another one of Sam’s sad attempts at finding friends, seeing as he’s the usual nerdy, awkward kid Sam likes to spend time with, _until_ he catches the way he looks at Sam. After that, he just can’t let them hang out without checking up on them, for Sam’s sake.

The Impala’s not exactly inconspicuous, so he parks a little down the road and walks up to where Sam’s sitting with that loser.

They’re reading something together, as far as Dean can tell. The kid’s hand is hovering awkwardly over Sam’s arm, like he wants to touch, but is afraid to. You better not, pussy.

Sam keeps on pointing something out in the book and talking enthusiastically. Dean chuckles to himself. He just can’t ever shut up, can he. Hover Hand still hasn’t made a move. In the next century, maybe.

It almost seems like Sam is oblivious to the guy’s pathetic attempts to make some sort of contact, but when he looks at Hover Hand he’s smiling and brushing his overgrown hair behind his ear in the sweetest way, and that just has to be deliberate.

They leave town before it can progress anywhere, but this is just the beginning.

It’s not like he’d ever act on it, but he likes to think about how’d they get together. Maybe Sam would be harassed by some guy, and Dean would barge in and knock the asshole out, and Sam would fall into his arms and tell him how grateful he is for the rescue, and that he’s always wanted him. Or maybe it would be less dramatic, with Sam running up to him one day, as he tends to do, but instead of giving him the usual hug, he’d kiss him this time.

Sometimes it’s almost like he catches Sam looking back, but until he’s sure he’s not imagining it, he doesn’t want to risk it. So he just thinks about it.

With the next guy it progresses further.

He’s awkward and scrawny and he’s got a weird face, and Sam talks about him like he just scored with a supermodel.

“Can you believe he got a scholarship to MIT at fifteen? It’s amazing.” He gets this dreamy look on his face. Dean’s not sure if he wants to laugh or slap some sense into him. “But he said he wants to finish high school like everyone. He’s just great. ”

When he gets there, Sam and MIT are sitting on the grass smiling at each other in that sickly sweet way, before the guy leans in.

It has got to be the worst kiss he’s ever seen. Too much tongue, not a tiniest bit of technique. Disgusting to watch, really, and Dean would tear his eyes away in a second, if he didn’t have to keep an eye on Sam to make sure he’s okay.

The kid clearly has no idea what he’s doing, but when he pulls back, Sam smiles his brightest, happiest smile.

It’s _pathetic_.

When Sam starts talking about MIT again he just can’t stand it anymore and cuts in.

“So, is he a good fuck?” He would probably last for a minute and then get all embarrassed about it, like the pussy he is.

Sam frowns, like he always does when he thinks Dean has said something _crude_. “I’m not sleeping with him, Dean.” He rolls his eyes. “We’re just hanging out and stuff. We have a thing.”

“A thing.”

It’s ridiculous.

Sam is sweet and adorable and he’s got the nicest ass Dean’s ever seen.

He deserves the best and all these ugly nerds, with their pasty faces and awkward moves are a _joke_.

If Sam gave _him_ a chance, Dean would blow his goddamn mind.

The next one is some kind of a math genius (and he’s got a great sense of humor, Dean, seriously). He’s chubby, with a sorry attempt for a beard to boot. Dean makes fun of Sam for dating a fat loser, but he just shrugs and says he thinks the guy’s great.

He doesn’t get how Sam can just not care about his opinion. Any time Sam says something unfavorable about this or that girl Dean is doing at the time, he breaks it off first chance he gets.

He might not be MIT material, or whatever Sam’s into these days, but he’d fuck him so good he’d never think about anything else.

The next guy looks like Lurch from the Addams Family. He’s like seven feet tall and has this dumbass expression on his face most of the time. He’s gotta have a condition, gigantism, or what was it. He tells Sam about it, because maybe the poor thing hadn’t noticed, and all he gets for it is a nasty glare.

It’s as if Sam specifically chooses to date the cast of a freak show. Shit, maybe that’s what he’s into?

This guy is apparently great at chessboxing and Dean snorts his beer out through his nose when he hears that. As if that’s a real thing. Lurch could have at least used something that exists to try to get into Sam’s pants.

“How was work?”

_Right_. He told Sam he was working at a garage down the road when he checks up on him. He only hesitates for a second before launching into a tall tale of disgruntled customers and witty comebacks, and Sam listens looking at him like he always should, with eyes intent and a smile on his face.

The next guy is sort of normal looking, Dean thinks begrudgingly, but he’s wearing the thickest, ugliest glasses he’s ever seen in his life. Do they even still make those?

Sam introduces them when he comes to pick him up from school and he shakes the guy’s hand just the side of too hard.

“We’re gonna hang out for a while, I’ll walk back home. I’m sorry you had to drive up here.” Sam says apologetically. Dean tells him it’s not a problem. Sam lightens up. “We’re going for a date later.” He grins brightly in that perfect way of his. Dean is speechless for a moment. He’s not sure if it’s even possible, but the kid looks more beautiful every day.

He gets himself together, gives the guy a warning look and ruffles Sam’s hair before walking away towards the car.

Sam gets back half an hour later with a sour expression on his face. Clearly something must’ve happened between the moment he saw them last and the drive back home. “What time are you going for that date?” He asks, casually.

“I’m not going.” Sam opens his bag so fast he practically rips the zip off.

Dean takes a swing of his beer and waits for a moment before asking what happened, like he’s not dying to find out. Sam doesn’t meet his eyes. “He said some things about you.”

Dean clenches his fist involuntarily. “What things?”

Sam keeps on looking somewhere off to the side. “He said that you’re looking at me weird.” Dean feels his nails break the skin of his palm. “I didn’t want to tell you, cause I knew you’d get upset. Anyway, I’m not talking to him anymore.”

They leave the town with Dean’s heart in his throat and Sam breaking off contact with people again.

If there’s any chance of things progressing further, he tells those losers to get the fuck away from his little brother. In most cases he doesn’t even have to get visual with threats, one look at his face and they stay away from Sammy for good. It’s a goddamn miracle none of them has pissed their pants yet.

It’s all fine until one of the losers rats him out.

“You threatened to kill him, Dean. It’s not ‘nothing’.” Sam is livid.

“Okay, yeah, maybe I said something along the lines.” He raises his hands in mock surrender. “But it was a joke. It’s not my fault the kid didn’t get it.”

Sam just glares at him from under his bangs.

“Come on, Sammy, making inappropriate jokes is in my job description. You know I didn’t mean it.” He says with his most earnest expression.

Sam smiles reluctantly. “Yeah, I know you didn’t.” He frowns again. “But it’s still a messed up thing to say.” It’s the last thing either of them says about it.

They’re sitting on the couch on a Saturday afternoon with Dean’s arm slung over Sam’s shoulders seemingly careless, so very deliberate, when Sam starts talking about this or that assignment and Dean zones out as usual. This time is better spent watching the sun play in Sam’s hair or how his pretty nose scrunches up when he’s concentrating. He watches the way his little pink tongue swipes over his bottom lip and the flash of his perfect white teeth. He imagines how his come would look on Sam’s face, clumping his eyelashes and sliding down his chin, and…

“Dean? Are you listening to a word I’m saying?”

Fuck. “Uh, yeah?”

Sam sighs. “I asked if you have any advice. For asking someone out.”

_Not again_. “Shoot, Sammy.” He says with feign nonchalance.

“Okay, so….” Sam seems unsure. “There’s this one guy I like. I’ve known him for a really long time, and I think he likes me too, but he’s never gonna make the first move.” He rubs a hand over the back of his neck. “So I thought, maybe you could tell me how should I go about it.”

For a moment, Dean can’t breathe. Is Sam talking about _him_? It does sound like it.

“Sure, kid, anything you need.” He tucks an unruly strand of Sam’s hair behind his ear.

Sam is smiling and looking up at him with his eyes shining and suddenly, Dean has a moment of perfect clarity. He thought he might be imagining it, projecting his own thoughts onto Sam, but the more he’s looking, the more he’s sure it’s not the case.

This, this is what he has been waiting for. This is the sign. They do feel the same way. All this talking, all these guys, it was just Sam trying to provoke him to act on it.

He doesn’t have a doubt in his mind when he puts a hand on Sam’s face and leans in to kiss him.

The happiest moment in his life lasts for all of five seconds before Sam practically falls off the couch in an attempt to get away. He stands close to the door, staring at him with a mixture of shock and disgust on his face.

“You gave me a sign.” Dean says desperately. Sam looks like wants to run.

The next couple of days are a _torture_. Sam, always ‘we-have-to-talk-about-it’ Sam, is pretending it never happened. He’s uncharacteristically quiet and even less tactile than he was at twelve, when he had his rebel phase. Dean just can’t stand it.

Sam acts as if that kiss wasn’t a momentous occasion. As if there was nothing between them. As if his indifference, his _revulsion_ , wasn’t breaking Dean’s heart.

Dean never realized how cruel he was.

It’s weeks before things get back to sort-of-normal and Sam finds himself a guy yet again. It’s different this time, though.

Sam doesn’t tell him about having _a thing_ with someone, tries to hide it, even. He doesn’t tell Dean about where he’s going anymore, but he’s none the wiser as to being followed.

The guy is not a pasty faced nerd. He’s tall and muscular and, finally, this is someone he can compete with.

It’s dark outside by the time he finds them. The Asshole has Sam pressed against a tree and a hand down his pants and _that’s just it_.

Dean’s not sure when he gets out of the car and runs up to them. Next thing he knows, he’s punching the guy straight in the face.

The guy is dazed for a second before he pushes Sam behind him and takes a lame defensive stance. As if Dean would ever hurt Sam. As if that asshole has any right to protect him.

The Asshole only gets one punch in before Dean kicks his legs from under him. He pulls his fist back and breaks the guy’s nose with a sickening, satisfying crack.

He realizes how wrong he was to ever hold back. It’s an epiphany of sorts.

Sam is trying to pull him away. “Dean, please, stop, I’m sorry.” But he’s not sorry, he’s lying, and that just makes Dean angrier.

He barely feels a twinge of remorse when he knocks Sam down.

When he steps back the Asshole is lying limp on the ground and his face doesn’t look like a face anymore. It’s a mangled, bloody mess, and for the first time in years he feels like he can breathe again.

He lifts Sam gently and carries him to the car. There’s a bruise forming under his eye, but it doesn’t make him any less beautiful.

He lies Sam down on the backseat and climbs on top of him.

Sam’s awake by the time he pulls their pants down, but he doesn’t try to stop him and he doesn’t say a word. He just looks at the Impala ceiling like it holds the secrets to the universe.

He doesn’t move and doesn’t get hard.

Dean comes on Sam’s stomach with a sigh and a blessing.

When they drive off, Sam is staring out of the window like he’s not even there, but it's the most amazing moment in his life.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rewrote the ending to the first chapter slightly. It was supposed to be a one-shot, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it.  
> Way more sex up ahead, of the non con and dub con variety and a way more messed up, asshole Dean. I hope you’re all happy about it. (I am.)  
> I’ve drunk-written and I’m drunk-posting this, because it’s Wednesday and I might have a problem. I’m probably going to hate it tomorrow.

Sam kind of stopped talking. Not completely, not in a ‘you need to see a doctor’ way, but when he says more than two sentences, it’s a good day. Or it would be, if Dean actually missed him talking. He feels slightly bad about preferring things the way they are now. Just slightly.

Sam talks today, but he doesn’t say the things Dean wants to hear.

“Tony’s dead. It’s in the news.” It’s the most he’s said in days and he utters these two sentences with more emotion than Dean’s seen from him in weeks.

Dean takes his sweet time looking up Sam’s bare long, long legs (and who could ever blame him, really), before finally focusing on his face. “Who’s Tony?” _Seriously_ , who the fuck is that?

“Tony’s my last…” Sam kind of chokes. The kid’s the most amazing person under the sun, Dean would defend that to his last breath, but he could really tone down with the dramatics sometimes. Especially when he’s getting emotional over some guy Dean doesn’t even know.

Except, oh, yeah. He gets what Sam clumsily tries to say. For a second, he feels like punching someone again. “Your last _thing_. The Asshole.”

He _really_ didn’t like Sam talking about it, but the wounded feelings from earlier are all but forgotten when he slides into bed behind Sam. He gets as close as he physically can, and doesn’t have to hide that he’s hard, not like he used to. He slides a hand into the back of Sam’s boxers and just leaves it there for a moment, savouring the feeling of the soft skin and the absolutely perfect curve of his ass.

He’s been dreaming about this for years, way longer than could be considered sane. He can’t believe he can actually do it now. Has been doing it. Has been doing _Sam_ , his mind supplies helpfully, and he chuckles to himself. He’s freaking hilarious sometimes.

He rubs a finger over Sam’s hole, and, seriously, wow. It almost feels like a dream. Except it’s not a dream, because dream Sam would moan and rub back against him and ask to just _fuck him please_. With the real Sam, he can feel the annoyance radiating off and hitting him in waves.

Sam doesn’t say no or tell him to stop, he just makes this silly little noise, somewhere between a harrumph and a sigh, and tries to pull Dean’s hand away. He never says ‘no’. He really doesn’t say much at all anymore.

“Not in the mood, huh?” He kisses his way up Sam’s neck. Sam doesn’t react, as usual, except for a little shudder. Dean likes to think it’s a good sign. “I could get you in the mood.” He says, easing one finger in.

He tries to make it amazing for Sam, he does. Sam just makes it incredibly hard. Ha, hard. Not at all, actually. He considers it a win when Sam gets a semi. When he was that age, he got a boner at the slightest breeze. He considered that, maybe, Sam’s got an erectile problem.

Except he did manage to get Sam off, not once and not twice, in the past few weeks, the happiest weeks of Dean’s life, even if it took a while. Sam did not once show he was grateful, or even happy. It’s either the staring-at-the-ceiling-no-response, or a look that is suspiciously like hatred. He gets that Sam has some reservations about them being together, but it’s still weird.

He gets a call from the principal’s office at Sam’s new school. Apparently he’s been causing trouble. That’s kind of weird, too. He knows that Sam has a spark, but school has always been almost like a sanctuary to him.

“He got into a fight twice in the past week. From what I gather, he was the one to instill them.”

”He seemed like a nice, quiet kid, and I know he’s never had any record, and that’s why we’re concerned.”

“We’re wondering if maybe something had happened to him. He’s been… lashing out.”

“He broke a little finger of one of the students.” Dean barely suppresses the urge to laugh. Classic Sam. Get into a fight, break someone’s little finger.

“I was hoping you could talk to him. As I said, all of us here, we’ve been wondering if something has happened. We’re worried.”

When he leaves the office, he’s not sure if he wants to laugh or feel sorry for all the poor kids caught up in the system, if these are the guardians they got. What if he was the one abusing Sam? What do they think would happen, after they told him about their suspicions? He can’t imagine how these people get their jobs.

He has a momentary thought about starting to homeschool Sam, but it’s just one of the ideas that sound nice until you try to make them real.

Sam’s going to graduate in a year and if he’s being honest with himself, it’s not like he could teach the kid much.

One thing he has to say about Sam, he’s not just a pretty face. The kid’s a goddamn genius. Even if he does have terrible taste.

He gets Sam to blow him for the first time. Not a difficult task, if he’s being honest. He just had to get Sam to his knees. A firm hand on the back of his head was all it took.

What Sam lacks in enthusiasm, he makes up in skill and that’s just _wrong_. He knows what he’s doing, _he’s done it before_. Dean shoves just a bit harder to hear him choke.

He comes in his mouth without a warning, and Sam wrenches his head away and spits on the carpet. A thick white glob dangles from his mouth before he wipes it away almost hysterically. It’s kind of hot, kind of gross, and really rude.

He turns Sam’s head towards him. “Okay, spill the beans, Sammy, who taught you this?” He wipes a bit Sam missed from the corner of his mouth. Sam flinches before getting that absent face again.

Sam has his eyes focused somewhere in the vicinity of Dean’s left knee. “Tony.”

“Who’s Tony?” _Seriously_ , who the fuck is that?

That gets Sam’s attention, and not the good kind. He stares at Dean like he’s crazy. He stays silent for a second, as if he thinks Dean’s joking. “The Asshole.” He says slowly, like he’s testing something.

Oh, that guy. No need to worry, then.

He gives Sam a kiss before he gets up, because he’s considerate and frankly, he’s never had a problem with the taste.

Sam’s going to turn seventeen in two months. He’s growing, but Dean doesn’t mind that. His legs are getting even longer, his face is getting even prettier, and he is, as always, getting more beautiful every day.

What he _does_ have a problem with is Sam talking to people again.

He watches Sam get out of school and talk to some guy, and it feels terrifyingly familiar. He’s never letting Sam put him in that position again.

He thinks he’d breaks this guy’s jaw first. Or his legs. Or maybe he’d take his time breaking every single bone in the hand the guy just put on Sam’s arm.

He doesn’t get a chance, though, because things have changed, for the best.

Sam almost leans into the guy, as he used to do, with the countless losers Dean is doing his best to forget, _but he doesn’t_. He jerks back and looks around. He sees Dean leaning against the car.

Dean doesn’t even feel embarrassed about being noticed watching. He’s not hiding anymore.

Sam doesn’t tell the guy goodbye, just turns on his heel and marches towards the Impala. He almost looks like he wants to punch Dean before he deflates and gets into the passenger seat.

Dean thinks their little paradise is going to last forever.

He finds the college applications.

He doesn’t expect the response he gets when he confronts Sam about it.

Sam kicks him in the stomach, knocking him down to the floor, and runs to lock himself in the bathroom.

When he gets in (thanks, crowbar left in one of their bags), Sam’s back to his vegetative state, sitting on the floor and staring off into space. He holds the crumpled applications tightly in his hand.

Dean kneels in front of him.

“I don’t want you to leave.” He presses a kiss to Sam’s forehead, his nose, his mouth. “I just don’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

Sam looks at him and starts laughing. It’s an uncontrollable, sick laugh that lasts for ages. He laughs like he’s lost his mind.

Sam wipes his eyes with his sleeve when he calms down and shakes his head, still acting like it’s the funniest joke he’s ever heard. “Nothing worse could ever happen to me.”


End file.
